


As the Dust Settles

by manic_intent



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4
Genre: M/M, Post-Canon, That Postgame story where MSS sides with the Institute
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-18
Updated: 2019-06-18
Packaged: 2020-05-13 22:53:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,463
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19260790
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/manic_intent/pseuds/manic_intent
Summary: Danse was standing with a foot on the ledge of the roof when Nate finally hauled ass all the way up top. Nate paused briefly to press his palms to his knees and wheeze. It wasn’t entirely feigned. Nate tried to get in a bit of exercise every day as the Director, but his days of wandering the wasteland was over and it’d had a telling effect on his stamina.“Nate,” Danse said. His voice was flat.





	As the Dust Settles

**Author's Note:**

> For Amanda, who asked for a Danse/Nate (Male survivor) Fallout 4 story. 
> 
> All my Fallout 4 stories have been about the Brotherhood, because they’ve tended to be my favourite organisation in the Fallout universe—despite being military cultists. Probably because you get a free suit of power armour and their fortresses etc are fun. In the light of the popularity of the TV show Chernobyl, this story will be about what I feel is the only “good” outcome to FO4—if you side with the Institute, aka the only outcome where you _don’t_ cause a nuclear meltdown in Boston.

Danse was standing with a foot on the ledge of the roof when Nate finally hauled ass all the way up top. Nate paused briefly to press his palms to his knees and wheeze. It wasn’t entirely feigned. Nate tried to get in a bit of exercise every day as the Director, but his days of wandering the wasteland were over and it’d had a telling effect on his stamina. 

“Nate,” Danse said. His voice was flat. 

Danse wasn’t in his power armour, dressed instead in a coat and light patchwork gear ubiquitous to travellers in the Commonwealth. He did have a new energy rifle strapped to his back and a pistol holstered to a thigh. His hair had grown out a little, and his jaw was dusted with stubble. He still looked a right treat, even stained with travel-dust and grim. Now, as before, whenever Nate looked at Danse, he had to push down a little pulse of avarice.

“Hey,” Nate said. He was wearing light Institute tactical armour himself, and a long courser’s coat. One pistol at his hip, if only because X6-88 had been extremely passive-aggressive about Nate going into a ‘situationally unsafe’ area unarmed. The coursers had been told to mind their own business, but Nate wouldn’t have put it beyond them to have snuck up somewhere with their stealth tech to keep an eye on him. 

“I didn’t think you’d come.” Danse looked Nate over. 

“Why wouldn’t I? You asked.” Nate used a foot to hook a rusting chair over. He sat down in it, crossing his legs. “You said you wanted to talk.” 

Danse looked away from him, down at the innocuous-looking building that marked one of the entrances to the underground Institute complex. “You look like a courser.” 

“Blame the actual coursers. After I got shunted into the Director position, they’ve all turned into obnoxious helicopter parents. You’d think that I’d die if I accidentally cut myself shaving or something, the way they’ve been acting.” 

Danse tensed a little at the mention of dying. “I suppose I have you to thank for the lack of hostile activity in the area?” 

“I think security took their own initiative on that point. Didn’t want the guest of their boss being turned into a colander before the meeting.” Nate gestured at Danse. “You look good. How’s everyone?” 

“Nick went back to Diamond City. Everyone else still wants to kill you,” Danse said. His jaw tightened. “Those of us whom you haven’t killed in turn.” 

“You know me,” Nate said, with a little shrug. “I’m willing to overlook a great number of things for my friends, but I draw the line at the attempted murder of myself. You could let them know that. Assuming that you’re still on speaking terms with any of the rest.” 

Danse said nothing for a while. The jibe had hurt, perhaps. Or maybe not. Danse had never shown any particular interest in anyone’s opinion, other than Nate’s and the late Elder Maxson’s. “I expected better from you,” Danse said. 

Nate let out a harsh laugh. “I _thought_ that was why you summoned me out here. A fucking lecture. Have at it. Get it out of your system.” 

“You destroyed the Railroad _and_ the Prydwen,” Danse said. 

“Don’t pretend to feel any sympathy for the Railroad. You hated those guys. Always found that ironic. Deacon and I used to laugh about it. He used to drop all these hints, telling me to get the stick out of your ass.” Nate’s mouth curled into a twist. “He came real close to shooting me in the throat. Good man. Pity they were all zero-sum psychos who prioritised one type of life over another.”

“Don’t you?” Danse asked quietly. 

“Not at all. You, Nick, Curie… you’re all as alive to me as I am. You were made that way.” 

“The Institute didn’t—”

“Fuck what the Institute used to be. I’m in charge now.” Nate projected more confidence than he felt. 

The Institute had been kicking around for a while, and even as the boss, getting people to help him turn the ship around took a lot of doing. If he didn’t have the unquestioned support of the coursers and the somewhat-questioned support of most of the science divisions, it would’ve been rougher going. 

“There were _children_ aboard the Prydwen! The squires.” 

“There are children in the Institute. Quite a number of them. Children in Diamond City. In the settlements, in towns,” Nate said. He gestured at the ruined sprawl of the Commonwealth around them. “Don’t moralise. You think I can’t guess what Maxson’s plan was? He would’ve used that gigantic robot to dig into the Institute. Structural damage would’ve killed people indiscriminately. He’d have wanted to wipe the Institute off the map. Which would mean sabotaging the nuclear reactor.” 

Danse stiffened. “You would have evacuated the civilians. Elder Maxson would have allowed that.” 

Nate let out a sharp bark of laughter. “And then what? They’d starve and die on the surface. The reactor meltdown will poison the Commonwealth even more than it already is. If it doesn’t destroy the groundwater and what little arable land there already is outright. The ensuing radiation will sicken anyone who isn’t already a ghoul. Is that the right thing to do?” 

“The Institute was stealing people. It created super mutants,” Danse said, turning on Nate with clenched hands. “How is siding with it the _right thing to do_?” 

“It isn’t. There’s no fucking ‘right’ or ‘wrong’ here. Just various degrees of shit decisions with shit outcomes!” Nate snarled. “What would the Brotherhood, the Minutemen, or the Railroad have done but poison the land and create a refugee crisis? Only the Institute has a viable plan moving forward for the Commonwealth _without_ turning the Commonwealth into a second Chernobyl. Cleansing the area with technology. Stabilising local governments. This was the least shit outcome that I could see.” 

“And now you’re the Director, and everything will be fine,” Danse said. He didn’t wear sarcasm well. “When I sponsored you into the Brotherhood, I thought you were a righteous man.” 

“You’re a poor judge of character. I never hid what I wanted from the Brotherhood. All I wanted was to find and kill the person who killed my wife and find my son. I’ve done both.” 

“What now?” 

“Now I’m the Director, and I’m going to try my best to at least not make things even more messed up than it already is. The kidnappings, the super mutant experiments, I’ve put a stop to all that. I don’t care if I’m hated. I have to live in this new world too. I’ll like to make this corner of the world a little better.” 

Danse made a show of glancing around them. “Quite the challenge.”

“Did the Brotherhood have any better plans? That involved benefiting the local people rather than themselves?” Nate waited. When Danse ducked his gaze, Nate nodded grimly. “Thought so.” 

“The Brotherhood will come to avenge the Prydwen. Elder Maxson was the last of the Maxsons, the founding family of the Brotherhood. His death will be a call to arms. You’ve started a war, one that you don’t have the army to defend against,” Danse said. 

“I was a soldier before I got flash frozen into the new world, Paladin. I knew what the consequences of taking down the Prydwen were going to be. I also understand war very well. If the Brotherhood wants to pick a fight with me? They can bring it.” 

Danse stared at him. He even blinked at uneven intervals as a person would. Nate had sucked Danse off a couple of times before things had spectacularly gone to shit in all directions, what with Danse discovering that he was a synth and the Brotherhood deciding to be a total dick about the situation. He’d never imagined Danse might be a synth. Hell, it didn’t matter even now. To Nate, Danse _was_ human. It didn’t matter that he had been made in a lab or born. 

“I hope you're right,” Danse said finally, “about this being the best of all possible outcomes.” 

“The best of all outcomes would’ve been if the Railroad, the Brotherhood, the Institute and the Minutemen had been willing to be less bloodthirsty and work together, but here we are,” Nate said. 

“Here we are,” Danse echoed. He looked solemn as he pushed away from the ledge. “Goodbye, Nate. I hope we don’t meet again.”

“That’s it? I thought you were going to try and shoot me,” Nate said, unable to stop pushing his luck. 

“How could I? I still love you. I just wanted to take your measure again. See what you’ve become.” 

“You—” Nate started to his feet, but Danse inclined his head and left through the fire escape. 

Nate was still rubbing his temple in slow circles when X6-88 materialised beside him. “Danse has left the exclusion zone, sir,” X6-88 said. The unofficial leader of the coursers was wearing their usual black coat and armour, an energy pistol holstered by their side. Their eyes were hidden behind a black visor.

“Get someone to keep an eye on him,” Nate said.

“I see.” X6-88 didn’t move.

“What? What now?” 

“I do believe you complained only an hour ago about ‘helicopter parenting, sir.” 

“Did someone patch you with sarcasm recently?” Nate asked sourly. 

“A certain unwise human decided to encode self-determination into the neurological implants of all Institute synths, which had several unintended side-effects.” X6-88 even cracked a faint smile. 

Purging the Institute’s neurological leash on all its synths had set off a brief chain reaction. Some synths had immediately ended their existences. A couple—surprisingly few, in Nate’s opinion—killed a few humans and had to be quickly shot. Nearly a quarter had opted to leave, streaming out of the Institute. The rest had waited to see what Nate would do next. Including all the coursers. 

“What a jackass. Shake some sense into that bastard the next time you see him,” Nate said. It’d seemed like the right idea at the time. Lots of his ideas tended to, up until the moment they blew up in his face.

#

Morgantown was due south of Montpelier, a fortified halfway town that was little more than a glorified trading post. Danse hadn’t come through by choice—a bad run-in with raiders to the southwest had damaged his water supplies. The New Vermont military had an outpost attached to the town, which meant safety for townsfolk but possible trouble for wanderers. Danse didn’t wear any of his weapons openly. His energy rifle he kept in a battered black duffle bag, his pistol in a back holster. He traded energy cells in the market for water containers and purification pellets and ordered a bowl of unidentifiable meat from the stall with the longest queue.

As Danse sat in a corner of the cantina to eat, a handful of militia corps sauntered in. Danse hunched himself against the wall to make himself smaller, but the corps weren’t looking for him—they bulled to the front of the line, ignoring murmured protests.

“—‘course a war’s coming, Robbin,” said the oldest, a scarred man in a uniform with a sergeant’s stripes. “Brotherhood couldn’t take a Maxson’s death lying down. Thought they’d have rolled over sooner, to be honest.”

“Shouldn’t we be worried, sarge? The Commonwealth’s real close to New Vermont. Been trading with us too,” Robbin said. 

“General Chase will put a stop to any ‘friendly’ intervention quickly,” Sarge said as he took a bowl of stew from the vendor. “The Commonwealth’s on their own. Serve them right. Funny bastards and their funny too-human robots. What kind of idiot picks a fight with the _Brotherhood_? Goddamned bloodthirsty death cult, that one.”

Danse grit his teeth. He swallowed his stew along with his anger, concentrating on breathing. 

“Pity about the Commonwealth,” said a skinny guy in a private’s uniform. “My brother Andrea, he just came back from Diamond City. Said the place’s changed a lot.”

“I heard,” said Robbin eagerly. “Is it true? It’s all cleaned up? No rads? Clean water from a tap, green everywhere?” 

Sarge let out a loud snort. “Bullshit. I’ve been to Diamond City. Five years back. It was a hellhole.” 

“It’s true,” said the private. “He took snaps. Here.” He passed a wrinkled set of photographs from his pocket to Sarge. “Institute rules the Commonwealth now. Director Delaney’s been making changes.” 

Hearing even just part of Nate’s name made Danse flinch. The militia didn’t notice. “Heard he was a soldier,” Sarge said, with grudging respect as he passed the photos over to Robbin. “A military man in charge, maybe that’s why things shaped right up.” 

“Maybe he has a fighting chance against the Brotherhood,” Robbin said, studying the photos with awe. “If the Institute has the technology to do something like this. Maybe it’s got weapons.”

“Weapons or not, a war with the Brotherhood’s still going to be a shitshow and a half. Fancy tech, fancy city… hell, I’ve seen the Brotherhood fight. Heard all the stories. I wouldn’t put money on Delaney surviving the war,” Sarge said. 

The rest of Danse’s portion was tasteless in his mouth. He finished mechanically and returned the bowl. Outside the cantina, Danse looked over his shoulder at the high walls that marked the inner courtyard of Morgantown, toothed with manned turrets. Danse had been planning to head further north. Towards O’Treal City, to the deep ice. That had been an irrational impulse after all. There was no running from who Danse had been, from who he was. From Nate.

#

The viewport from the command deck of the Funny You Asked was angled to look out over Boston Airport. Built from the few parts that survived the Prydwen’s crash and improved with Institute tech, the gleaming white airship was smaller than the Prydwen had been, sleeker. It didn’t need the huge crew deck with its half synth crew, and it wasn’t fitted for long-haul missions. Unlike the Prydwen, it had teeth. Assuming that the ‘pulse cannon’ under its belly worked and didn’t blow up the entire ship during the test-fire.

“Pessimism is an inefficient human trait,” X6-88 told Nate. 

“I’ve become intimately aware over the last few years of all the many ways experimental tech can go terribly wrong,” Nate said. He had more silver in his hair now because of the stress. Goddamned scientists. 

“Synths had as much of a hand in the design and construction of the Funny You Asked as inefficient humans. It’ll be fine.” X6-88 grimaced. “I wish you picked a better name.” 

“What’s wrong with ‘Funny You Asked’? It’s an awesome name. Real conversation starter.” 

“I preferred ‘Excalibur’,” X6-88 muttered. 

“Don’t be such a sore loser. I put it to a general vote, didn’t I? ‘Funny You Asked’ won by a landslide.” 

“Only because you’re friends again with the editor of the only newspaper in Diamond City _and_ the mayor of Goodneighbour,” X6-88 said. 

“I do so love me some nepotism in the morning,” Nate admitted. 

He walked a slow circuit around the command deck, admiring the sleek consoles manned by a synth and human crew. Boston Airport below them swept outward in ridges of greened buildings. The Biodome Project had been prototyped in Boston Airport first—buildings reinforced by ‘greening’ walls or reconstructed altogether with prefab units. Years on, the G.E.C.K.-bioengineered plants had spread nicely through the settlement, filtering the air and de-radding the soil and water.

“You’re the best human I have ever met and still you are like this. Humanity is doomed,” X6-88 said. 

“Aww, I’m so touched. Thanks.” Nate started to head out of the command deck, hesitating when X6-88 touched his arm. The courser’s head was tilted slightly. 

“C3-11 has returned to the Commonwealth,” they said.

“What? What happened to Danse?” C3-11 had been the unlucky courser that X6-88 had ‘volunteered’ to watch Danse. 

“Still alive. He just crossed the border from New Vermont. C3 says he’s here for you.” 

Nate tensed. He walked quickly out of the command deck, ignoring curious glances from the crew. Once outside, he strode toward the vertibird cradles. “Charter a bird,” Nate told X6-88.

“Yes, sir. Do you want C3-11 to detain Danse?” 

“No. I just want to have a word with him,” Nate said. 

“Given that the Brotherhood is amassing its forces, this is highly inadvisable,” X6-88 said disapprovingly. 

“That’s what humans do, X6. Inadvisable stuff.” Nate clapped X6-88 on the shoulder. “Order the damned bird.”

#

Danse wasn’t entirely surprised to hear the bone-shaking thrum of an approaching vertibird once he was a couple of hours’ walk past the border. He _was_ surprised that he didn’t recognise the make of the bird on a first glance. The new vertibirds were sleeker, built for a single pilot. It had four rotor blades instead of two and was painted white and blue. The forward-facing guns looked like Gatling lasers, twinned to the cockpit.

Nate hopped out of the vertibird once he was close to the ground and walked over as the pilot started to wind the vertibird down. That was a good sign. If Nate was expecting trouble from Danse, the vertibird would’ve lifted off to cover Nate from the air. Danse took a step forward and went still as a safety clicked behind him, close to his head. A courser. 

“No need for that, C3,” Nate said, making a gesture. “Dismissed.” 

“Objection,” C3 said behind Danse. 

“ _Dismissed_.” Steel bucked into Nate’s amiable voice. There was another click and a ripple in the grass to Danse’ right, heading toward the vertibird. 

“I thought I was being watched. Once I passed the border,” Danse said. He approved. Nate would need to have eyes everywhere if he intended to hold the Commonwealth. 

“Walk with me,” Nate said. He walked past Danse, loping toward an abandoned, partly collapsed hut and an ancient silo that had been cracked down its flank. Danse followed, trying to keep his breathing even. He’d forgotten what it was like to be near Nate. The near-physical force of his charisma, a presence that pulled everyone toward him like a collapsing star. 

“You look well,” Danse said, once they were out of sight of the vertibird. “That’s good.” 

Nate glanced at him, expressionless. “You said you didn’t want to see me again.” 

“Those weren’t my words.” 

“Same sentiment.” 

Danse conceded that point. “It was true at the time.” 

“When did it stop being true?” 

“Almost immediately,” Danse admitted slowly. 

Nate looked away, tilting his glance up at the sky. “You still left.”

“I needed to go away. To think.” 

“Took you five years to do that?” Nate had an odd catch to his voice. Was he annoyed? He had the right to be. 

“I’d never had to think for myself before. Had to practice.” 

Danse hadn’t been joking. Nate laughed as though he had, a low chuckle that deepened into belly-shaking laughter, until even Danse was smiling at the joke that had not been a joke. “Damn,” Nate gasped when he caught his breath, “I missed you. Asshole.”

“I heard about the changes you’ve been making in the Commonwealth.” 

“Can’t even wait thirty seconds into our reunion to give me my report card?” Nate said. He looked amused, though. 

“Report card?” Danse said, puzzled. 

“Never mind.” Nate sobered up. “Why’re you back? Not that it isn’t good to see you.” 

“I heard that the Brotherhood’s finally on its way.” 

“Yeah. They’re hard to miss. Your people are more into spectacle and massed military machines than subtlety,” Nate said. 

Danse grit his teeth. This part was going to be hard to say. “They.” He swallowed. Tried again. “They aren’t my people.” 

Nate cocked his head. “To be honest, I’m not entirely sure whether Maxson got around to updating HQ or whatever about you, so if you rocked up to the Brotherhood forces in your full armour and tadpole suit, you’d probably be let back in.” 

“It’s not a tadpole suit,” Danse said automatically. At Nate’s little smirk, Danse sighed. “And I’m not going to re-enlist. I won’t lie about what I am.” 

“Jesus.” Nate’s amusement faded. “Five years and you’re _still_ —”

“No. It isn’t like that. I’ve thought things through. About myself. Other synths. Without self-determination, synths were just weapons. You can’t blame a weapon. You blame the wielder.” 

“I erased the neurological protocol,” Nate said. 

“I know. I felt it too. That’s partly why I had to leave. I wanted to see if… if I left. Went far away from you. Whether I’d feel any different, about everything. About us.” 

Nate’s expression darkened. “You think it was… you think you had prior embedded programming—”

“No. I don’t know. I don’t think so. I still don’t even know what I was made for. To watch Elder Maxson? Maybe kill him someday? I’ve never felt like I could. I couldn’t even hurt you. I had to focus on that. Focusing on what I still felt about you helped me slowly focus on everything else. Helped me to stop hating the way I was made. To adapt to being fine on my own. With having no purpose.” 

A wan smile crept over Nate’s face. “You? No purpose? I doubt it.” 

“Not one that was given to me. One that I could give to myself.” Danse reached out and clasped Nate’s arm. “I’d like to serve you again. If you’ll have me.” 

Nate pulled away. That hurt to see, even if Danse stood his ground. “Danse,” Nate said with terrible gentleness, “I don’t want or need a servant.” 

“I—”

“No, you listen. I’ve never thought of you as one. Or as a subordinate. I’ve always thought of you as a friend. Maybe even a partner—I was hoping for that, eventually. If you want to come back to me, nothing will make me happier. But not because you just want to be someone’s soldier again.”

“A soldier is what I am,” Danse said. Nate stiffened but allowed Danse to pull him closer. “You’re the one who showed me that I could be something more.” He bent toward Nate, who closed the distance between them eagerly. They kissed, both of them nervous with relief.

#

Nate had quit smoking after he’d met Nora because she’d been mildly allergic. He’d never really missed it until now. Sitting on the roof of the newly prefabbed mayoral residence in Diamond City, Nate lit up and pulled in a deep drag, waiting for the nicotine hit.

“That’ll kill you.” Piper sat down beside Nate, dangling her feet off the edge into the bioengineered foliage and making a show of coughing. 

Nate blew the stream of smoke to a side. “Yeah, yeah. I get the lecture daily from Danse. More than daily, if he’s feeling particularly inspired.” 

“You should stop. You’re the glue holding everything together in the Commonwealth. If you die or get seriously sick or whatever, everything might collapse.” Piper nodded at the city around them. Green walls covered half of the city’s surface, many of them now also growing edible fruits. Solar panels fanned out from rooftops like a slow bloom of black petals. The filthy market square had been reorganised into neat little squares, the buildings reorganised into orderly blocks, made accessible via gentle slopes. “Three years on and I still can’t get used to Diamond City _not_ smelling of sewage and shit. Some mornings I wake up convinced that my nose is dead.” 

“I’ve got succession contingencies in place.” Nate shot her an amused look. “Five years back you told me I was an asshole for siding with the Institute and that you wished we’d never met.” 

“You still are an asshole,” Piper said, poking him in the shoulder. “And given how you might have just declared all-out war with the Brotherhood on behalf of the Commonwealth, I sometimes wish we’ve never met. I’m scared, Blue.” 

“Write it down. What you think. All of it. I’m scared too. Even with our new Fortress tech. Even if everyone manages to work together without imploding. I don’t want this fight. But hell, an old drill sergeant of mine used to say, if you want peace, prepare for war.” 

“That makes no sense whatsoever,” Piper said, after a moment’s thought. 

“I thought so at the time.” 

“You should tell me that everything will be all right,” Piper said with a wry smile. “I’d put it in the paper.” 

“I _hope_ that everything will be all right. Whether it actually will be? I don’t know.” Nate looked behind them at a heavy step. 

John peeked out of the roof access, the ghoul holding on to his tricorn hat. “Break’s over, assholes,” John said, beckoning. “Let’s get back to our futile strategy brainstorming session.” 

“Your optimism is noted, Mayor Hancock,” Nate said, stubbing out his cigarette. 

“My optimism needs therapy after all those Institute drone shots of the army that’s waiting to roll in and fuck us in the ass without lube,” John said, “but by all means, I’m all ears about how we un-fuck our FUBARed situation.” 

“I regret teaching you military jargon.” Nate got to his feet. Back to work.

#

Danse glowered and folded his arms as Nate got out of the docked vertibird onto the flight deck of the Funny You Asked. “You shouldn’t be here,” Danse said. He looked accusingly at X6-88, who held up their hands in a gesture of defeat.

“I tried,” X6-88 said. 

“They did. Not just them. C3, Zhang, L44, Indira, R2…” Nate made mouths out of his hands next to his ears. “You’d think I was going to personally attack the Brotherhood by myself or something. Though, it’s nice to see that the Senate cares.” 

“We should just sedate him and send him back,” Danse told X6-88.

“Don’t tempt me,” X6-88 said, even as Nate laughed. 

“The Funny You Asked is meant to provide frontline support. If the situation tomorrow turns kinetic we’ll be drawing fire,” Danse said.

“Frontline support where it’s deemed necessary,” Nate said. He sauntered over to Danse, leaning in to purr into his ear. “I wanted to see you.” 

“I could hear that,” X6-88 said. They looked resigned. “You’re seriously committing a major security breach just to have sex? Amazing. Just when I thought humans couldn’t be more disappointing.” 

“I value your opinion, X6.” Nate offered X6-88 a thumbs-up and pulled Danse along the flight deck. 

“They’re right,” Danse complained, though he allowed himself to be led. “The ship isn’t as secure as Institute HQ. We really should disable the teleporter as it is. You and I both have a lot of things to do. Hostilities could break out at any moment—” He broke off as Nate kissed Danse hard on the mouth. 

“Exactly. We don’t have much time. So c’mon, Commander. Take me to bed.” 

“This isn’t about wanting to be on the front lines, is it?” Danse came to a stop before the lift up into the main deck and dug in his heels. “I know it’s hard. Maybe you think you’re sitting in safety while the rest of us are putting our lives on the line. It’s war, not a simple skirmish.” 

Nate looked exasperated. “I know all that. I’ve been in the military all my adult life. If it’ll make you feel any better, I’ll leave this heavily armed blimp and go back into the fortified bunker before dawn. Or whenever we’re done. Which is going to take longer, if you’re going to stand here arguing with me.” 

Danse gave in, an easy decision where Nate was concerned. On the way through the upper crew decks, they turned heads where they walked. Some of the crew saluted in a variety of ways that would never have been tolerated in the Brotherhood. Most of them were civilians or synths, after all. Transplanted city security. Danse swallowed the automatic rebuke on his tongue, nodding in greeting as they went. 

By the time they got to Danse’s cabin, Nate was amused again. “MacCready bet me five caps that you’d snap and have a meltdown after a week as Commander of the Funny You Asked.” 

“Why’s that?” Danse closed the door behind them. 

“Like asking a yaoguai to herd a bunch of mole rats hopped up on chems, he said.” 

“Nice to see that MacCready considers me on par with a yaoguai.” Danse pushed Nate against the wall and kissed him, stroking his thumbs over Nate’s cheeks. 

Nate kissed him back eagerly, pulling Danse’s coat off his shoulders. It felt strange to be aboard what was once the Prydwen without his power armour. Strange to be surrounded by the steady hum of engines without being enmeshed in a military routine. Strange to sleep in a cabin that had once belonged to the man Danse had revered most in all the world, a man who had died badly, entombed in fire steel. It would have been more disorienting if Nate wasn’t here to ground him. 

Danse let Nate walk them to the bunk, tugging off tactical armour and clothes, tossing boots onto the deck. Nate’s arousal rode up against Danse’ hip, his face clenched tight with nervous tension. For all that Nate projected an insouciant calm to his Senate and to the ragtag Commonwealth Mayoral Council, to his friends he didn’t lie about how much he cared. Danse should have understood this all along, even before. That Nate’s capacity to care about everyone would have driven him to precisely just this outcome, even as the decisions he made to get here would haunt him for the rest of his life. 

Nate was both the most incredible person Danse had ever met and also the most human. He hoped that the reverence and devotion he felt was obvious in the way he stroked his palms over Nate’s back, over the lingering kisses he pressed over Nate’s shoulders. He sat Nate down on the edge of the bed and kissed Nate like it was the first time, the last time. Nate dug his nails into Danse’s short-buzzed hair and moaned. 

“Nate,” Danse whispered. 

“Later.” Nate pulled Danse down onto his knees. When Nate had first confessed his feelings for Danse, Danse had recoiled. He’d already known that he was a synth at that point, and he couldn’t fathom how someone like Nate could want him, given all the damage that they’d seen Institute synths wreak. He would always be unsafe, he told Nate. Nate had laughed. _Everyone is unsafe_ , he’d said, stroking Danse’s cheek. _Especially me_. 

Danse had argued with Nate at first, but now he maybe understood the sentiment. It had taken him years to accept that synths were just as human as everyone else. It was partly why he had returned to Nate. As his own man, as nothing else. Danse fumbled the catches on Nate’s pants open and pulled down his clothes to his knees. He sucked Nate in with a hungry moan, grateful for Nate’s low chuckle of pleasure, his moans as Danse sucked him in greedily to the root. Danse had always been glad of his body’s ability to take punishment and keep on fighting. He’d only recently been glad of how he could give pleasure as well. He drank, cheeks hollowing, tugging at Nate’s thighs until Nate tucked a hand around the back of Danse’s skull and rocked into his mouth. Fucking into Danse’s throat until he was making the low breathy groans that told Danse that Nate was getting close. 

“C’mon, sweetheart, up,” Nate panted, pulling at Danse’s shoulders instead of coming in his mouth. Danse obeyed, allowing Nate to pull him onto the bunk. They kissed as Nate jerked Danse’s pants and underwear down and shoved his slicked cock against Danse’s. Urgency made the kiss clumsier than it should be, more hungry. Nate mauled Danse’s lip with his teeth, licked against his jaw as he groaned. His hands twisted over the sheets as Danse caught them both in a hand, tugging until they were shaking against each other and spent. 

“Love you,” Nate said sleepily later, when Danse had wiped them down the best he could with supplies. The cabin smelled of recycled air and sex. 

“You’re still going back to HQ,” Danse told him. He kissed Nate’s jaw as Nate’s face scrunched up briefly in exasperation. 

“Fine, fine.” Nate sat up and brushed a kiss over Danse’s cheeks, yawning as he looked around for his clothes. 

“See you later,” Danse said. It was the best promise he could make, given the circumstances. Nate studied him quietly. He leaned over, tucking his mouth against Danse’s throat. Nate made a low, hoarse sound, then he pulled back and got off the bed. They had a war to win.

**Author's Note:**

> Refs:  
> https://steamcommunity.com/app/377160/discussions/0/496881136916742616/  
> https://kotaku.com/every-faction-in-fallout-4-sucks-1750925725  
> Fallout Universe Map: https://www.google.com/maps/d/u/0/viewer?hl=en_US&mid=1puuQVpbfh4ofYflJxJPB6iul6JQ&ll=42.49855503014766%2C-88.32860030317931&z=5
> 
> twitter: @manic_intent  
> about my writing etc: manic-intent.tumblr.com  
> 


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